


A gift

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: John walked into the room, expecting a few boxes in an otherwise empty attic.But he was met instead with a powder blue painted room.Or, Sherlock (as they rebuild the flat) creates a room for Rosie at the flat.Based on a tumblr prompt/request
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 71





	A gift

John shuffles into the flat for the first time since the rebuild. 

Everything looks the same, furniture seemingly unmoved. 

“Sherlock?” he yells, grappling with a medium sized box, most likely filled with books and things of that sort for their newest case, and Rosie, who is gazing around at her surroundings, entrances by thy little bottles and books perched on every surface.   
“Can you help me?” 

Sherlock wordlessly comes in, lifting the box out of the blonds hands and walking away to The living room. 

He pokes his head out briefly, smirking slightly  
“Go upstairs with Rosie” 

John pauses, confused.   
Sherlock never let him upstairs.   
He always said it wasn’t safe, but John saw him go up their on several occasions, bag in hand. 

“upstairs?” 

“Yes John, upstairs” Sherlock says, fake exasperation apparent in his voice. 

He was still in the room, obscures from view. He was relived that John can’t see the mix of happiness and fear playing in his eyes, the two emotions crashing against each other creating a a dull but challenging to read spark.   
It might give him away. 

John walked into the room, expecting a few boxes in an otherwise empty attic.   
But he was met instead with a powder blue painted room. 

He gasps in realization as he takes Rosie around to inspect the room. 

It had a small crib, made of a dark polished wood. It was filled with a small quilt, matching pillows piled softly in a corner. Nestled inside those pillows was a small stuffed bumblebee, the size of a fist.   
Rosie saw this and her eyes light up, chubby fists grasping at the air as she leans over johns arms.

“Oh would you like it?” He says as he plucks it from the bed, offering it to his baby daughter. 

There were shelves on the walls, stocked with books and a small bird skull.   
John smiled at this, remembering how Rosie and Sherlock were playing with this briefly, Sherlock showing Rosie were everything went.   
She was especially exited about the large eyeholes, poking her fingers in repeatedly until John pulled her way, ready to feed her. 

Sherlock walked in a few minutes later, him pausing at the doorway watching the people he loves most in the world explore something he created for them. 

John turned, about to walk back down the stairs when he saw Sherlock, standing stiff but smiling ever so slightly in he doorway. 

The man by the door saw tears in his companions eyes,  
“John?” He asks, eyes searching for a reason   
“Are you upset?”   
He says this in a caring way, something he has trained himself to become for Rosie and John.   
“Y-yes. I’m fine” he says, obscuring himself from the others view.   
“This is what you have been doing?” He asks quietly, eyes still roving around the room. 

Rosie sits on the floor, babbling softly to herself. She glances ever so often at the two men, the two men she would later call her fathers. 

“Yes” Sherlock answers,   
“I made it so if- you and Rosie ever move in here.. she can have somewhere to play and things..” he says, avoiding eye contact 

“Are you asking me to move in?” John says, corners of his eyes glistening as he smirks.

Sherlock doesn’t respond.

“Well.. I will.” He says softly after a small stretch of silence.

Sherlock looks up, surprised at his response. 

“Alright.” He says, hiding his relived posture, swaying on his feet, freed from the thought that the man he loves refusing his offer.  
Loved.   
He said loved.


End file.
